A Mind of her Own

by Rosie Harris

  Betty didn’t answer. His moods puzzled her. Some days he was bright and talkative; others he was morose and could barely take the trouble to answer when she spoke to him.

  She studied his face. He had uneven stubble, as if he hadn’t taken the trouble to shave properly. His blue eyes had a faraway look in them and, although he was staring straight ahead, they didn’t seem to be focused on anything.

  She sighed and looked away, then back again because something else was worrying her about his appearance. This time she saw that his shirt was buttoned up unevenly causing it to crumple up around his thin neck.

  She wondered if he had buttoned it up incorrectly or whether it was her fault and there was a button missing. She itched to put it right, but was afraid of irritating him by doing so while they were in public view.

  They sat there in silence for about a quarter of an hour. Betty studied her surroundings; signs of approaching autumn were everywhere. Even some of the trees were beginning to shed their leaves or show signs of turning colour.

  She was on the point of suggesting they went for a coffee to pass the time when Peter stood up, stretched, squared his shoulders and with a polite nod in her direction prepared to leave.

  Betty decided to give him a few minutes to get ahead of her before following him when, without warning, he mounted her scooter and was away down the path and out of the park heading towards the main road. Betty felt nonplussed. She didn’t mind him taking the scooter, didn’t mind the fact that she would have to use the walker to get home, but it was the way it had happened.

  Peter had seemed to think that he didn’t need to ask her if she would mind if he took the scooter; he acted as though it was his.

  She sat there for a moment considering what to do for the best. Normally if he had said he wanted to ride on the scooter she would have thought nothing of it knowing that he was as capable of doing so as she was, but in his present mood, was he safe? Supposing he decided to drive on the road instead of staying on the pavement, she thought worriedly.

  Pulling herself together she stood up, fastened her jacket and set off after him.

  She knew she couldn’t possibly catch him up because she had to use the walker but was also aware that there was nothing else she could do.

  She was almost halfway home and still hadn’t caught a glimpse of him when she saw a small crowd gathered ahead of her and knew at once that Peter was in some way involved.

  When she reached them, a smartly dressed man was shouting at Peter and telling he was a madman.

  ‘If I hadn’t been able to jump out of your way there could have been a more serious accident. As it is, you knocked me to the ground and look at the state I’m in!’ Betty heard the man say as she reached the edge of the crowd. ‘If it had been a child in your path then you could have seriously injured, or even killed it.’

  ‘You should have got out of the way a bit quicker,’ Peter told him. ‘Walking in the middle of the pavement, who do you think you are?’

  ‘Who do you think you are careering along at the speed you were doing?’ the man told him. ‘You should be on the road in that vehicle not on the pavement.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. This vehicle isn’t designed for the road only for riding on the pavement,’ Peter retorted.

  Betty pushed her way through the small crowd. ‘I’m very sorry, what’s happened?’ she asked the man.

  Now that she could see Peter more clearly, she saw that he was very dishevelled; his coat was covered with dust and dirt. It was obvious that he had been knocked over but managed to pick himself up again.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man demanded, ‘his wife or his carer? Whichever, you need to keep him under control; he is a menace.’

  ‘Wife? She’s not my wife? What makes you think a man of my age would have a woman as old as that as my wife?’

  ‘Wife, mother or carer, I don’t give a damn,’ the man said angrily. ‘I want your name and address, I’m going to sue you.’

  ‘Please,’ Betty intervened. ‘He’s old and frail …’

  ‘You speak for yourself,’ Peter said loudly. ‘I’m forty-five, if it has anything to do with any of you, and I have my own business and I have just bought a house in Clover Crescent. This woman,’ he added, looking straight at the man who had knocked him down, ‘is my mother!’

  Turning back to Betty he said angrily. ‘What do you think you are doing following me, that’s why I was going so fast and had the accident. I was trying to get away from you.’

  The man looked from one to the other in bewilderment. ‘You are his wife, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m his wife,’ Betty confirmed, ‘and he shouldn’t be on the scooter; it’s mine.’ She indicated the walker. ‘This is his.’

  The man dusted down his coat, shaking his head all the time. ‘I think he’s mad,’ he muttered. ‘Take him home and don’t let him out on his own again because, believe me, he’s going to do some serious damage to someone or something.’

  Betty bit her lip and nodded. She couldn’t think what was the right thing to say. She had never seen Peter like this before. He was bristling with anger and so aggressive.

  ‘Under the circumstances,’ the man went on, ‘I won’t take this any further because I can see you are very upset.’ He laid a hand on Betty’s shoulder. ‘I feel sorry for you, I really do; having to live with that madman.’

  There were amused titters from some of the crowd then, one by one, they drifted away leaving Betty standing on her own with Peter.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Peter asked, frowning. ‘All that shouting and carrying on. Was that man out of his mind?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said as soothingly as possible. ‘I’ll take the scooter,’ she said, pushing the walker towards him. ‘Come on, take this and you walk ahead.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Home,’ she said wearily. ‘We won’t be going out again until I am sure that you are better,’ she said, but Peter didn’t hear her. He was already pushing the walker ahead and heading for home.

  Betty put the kettle on as soon as they went indoors. She needed a cup of tea, her nerves were jangling as she contemplated what had happened.

  She had never seen Peter in such a mood before and she simply couldn’t understand it. She didn’t know whether she ought to take him to see the doctor or not. She’d have to speak to Tim about it and see what he thought.

  By the time she had made the tea and taken a cup into Peter he was fast asleep. She put the tea down on the table and sat down and drank her own. His would be cold if he didn’t wake up soon, she thought, but it was so peaceful with him snoring away that she decided not to disturb him until she had finished drinking her own tea.

  When she did, he woke up, stared around, picked up his tea and drank it and said, ‘Are we still going out for a walk?’

  His voice was so normal that Betty wondered if she had imagined what had taken place only a short time earlier. For one moment she wondered if she was the deluded one.

  ‘No’, she said, ‘it’s too late for us to go out now.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ he sighed. ‘I was dreaming about us walking down to the park. Still, never mind, we can always do it tomorrow.’

  Over the next few days Betty was on tenterhooks, watching his behaviour and listening carefully to what he said, but there was no sign at all that he was in any way unwell.

  The incident in the park, taking her scooter and colliding with someone, was never mentioned. Peter seemed to have completely forgotten that it had ever taken place. It was as if it had never happened at all.

  Betty mulled over whether or not to mention it to Tim. Would he understand? Would he think she was making a fuss about nothing? What could he do about it anyway, she asked herself. He would only tell her to take Peter to see a doctor and, somehow, she didn’t want to do that.

  I’ll do the same as Peter and forget it ever happened, she told herself. But, it wasn’t that
easy. Every time they went out Betty made a point of parking the scooter behind Peter’s walker so that there was no chance of him taking it by mistake.

  It hadn’t been a mistake the day he took it when they’d been in the park, she reminded herself. He had done it deliberately. Yet he had never even ventured to use it since, she thought. It puzzled her. In the end, because she could stand the worry no longer, she spoke to Tim about it.

  ‘It sounds serious,’ he told her. ‘I think you should task him to see a doctor in case it is the start of Alzheimer’s. These days they have all sorts of medication and they may be able to give him something to slow the process down.’

  ‘I don’t want them putting him in a hospital or something like that,’ Betty said worriedly. ‘He’s quite healthy and been perfectly all right ever since. He’s never once mentioned what happened. He hasn’t shown any interest in riding the scooter again either.’

  Tim shrugged. ‘I don’t know what else to suggest. It may never happen again, just “one of those moments”,’ he laughed. ‘I wonder what he thought he was doing; had he been drinking?’

  ‘Of course not. He never goes to the pub, you know that.’

  ‘I meant drinking at home,’ Tim said. ‘He has the occasional glass of wine, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Very rarely. He might have a hot whisky toddy before going to bed if he thinks he has a cold starting. That nips it in the bud, he always says.’

  Betty came away feeling none the better for taking Tim into her confidence. She even wondered if he had been laughing at her for making such a fuss.

  She had two choices, she decided. She could either put it all out of her mind and forget it ever happened or she could try and persuade Peter to go and see a doctor.

  That would be very difficult, she mused, because she wasn’t sure how he would react if she told him the reason she wanted him to do so.

  I’ll be going out of my head myself if I don’t stop worrying about it, she told herself. It was one isolated incident. There may never be another. The best thing to do was to forget about it.

  Thirty-Two

  Betty watched Peter carefully for the next couple of weeks but he showed no further tendency to anything out of the ordinary. She even went as far as to test him out by suggesting that he might like to take turns with her on riding the scooter and using the walker.

  ‘You like the scooter still, don’t you?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course I do but I sometimes feel mean about riding it and you having to walk,’ she said with a warm smile.

  ‘That’s ridiculous. I’ve got the walker and that suits me fine. I get my daily exercise by walking, which is more than you do.’

  ‘Oh, I get plenty of exercise,’ Betty assured him.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to ride the scooter as it’s such a poor replacement for the car,’ he went on, with a teasing smile. ‘If you’ve got to have a change then make it a good one,’ he added with a laugh.

  Peter seemed to be so normal that Betty decided to put the entire episode out of her mind. There was something far more important in the offing, she told herself. In a couple of weeks’ time it would be her eightieth birthday and she thought it would be a good opportunity for a celebration; a party or an evening out that included not only all the family but her friends, Sally and Hilda, as well.

  When, where and at what time; midday or evening? Perhaps it would be better to have it at midday, she mused, because of little Anna. She wanted her to be there but she knew that Shirley didn’t like her being up too late at night because she had to go to school the next day. If they had the party at midday, Anna would be at school, she frowned. Unless they had the party at the weekend, of course. Yes, that seemed to be the best idea.

  The trouble was that restaurants were usually very busy on the weekend and it would be a fairly large party. She could have it at home of course, but she didn’t think their flat was big enough for so many people. There would be ten of them so there weren’t enough chairs to go round for a start and she wasn’t sure that she had enough dinner plates and cutlery for so many people. It would be very crowded to try and sit them all round their small dining table. Unless they had a buffet …

  Betty thought about it for several days but decided holding a party at the flat was out of the question. For one thing, even if they all gave a helping hand, she would still find it more work than she could manage. She’d not be able to enjoy their company because she’d be too anxious making sure that everybody was being looked after.

  When she mentioned the idea to Peter he was most definitely in favour of them going out.

  ‘If you try to do it yourself, even if you buy in most of the food, it’s still going to make you sick with worry,’ he told her. ‘If you hire someone to come in and take over there won’t be room for any guests,’ he said with a laugh when she was about to argue with him.

  ‘No, let’s have a real party and let someone else do all the hard work. You’re the one who is supposed to be celebrating this special birthday, not killing yourself trying to make it enjoyable for other people.’

  Betty mulled over the idea for a few more days, made lists of where they could go and the number of people there would be and then decided to ring round and ask and find out if they were prepared to cater for such a party. Was it best to do that or would it be more sensible to make sure that all the family could be there on whatever date she chose. First things first, she told herself. But which was the first thing she ought to do? She couldn’t even make her mind up about that.

  ‘If they can’t come to the party then that’s their loss,’ Peter said when she faced him with the problem.

  ‘Yes, but when I book they will want to know how many are coming.’

  ‘Give them an estimate, nine or ten, or something like that.’

  Betty nodded thoughtfully. ‘I suppose they will be happy with that,’ she murmured.

  ‘So, where shall we go? Where do you fancy, Peter?’

  ‘Where do I fancy!’ he laughed. ‘Don’t ask me, I’ve only been out for that sort of meal about a dozen times in my life and I wouldn’t know one place from another. Pick the one you fancy; or find out what price they are charging and judge by that.’

  Betty raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, of course, I suppose that is the clever way to do it.’

  Afterwards, as she thought about it more carefully, she wasn’t at all sure that it was the best way to set about organizing things. After a couple of sleepless nights, when she lay awake trying to work out where to go and what to do for the best, she made up her mind that she would have a talk with Tim about it.

  Tim would know exactly where to go because he was so used to wining and dining clients and attending functions organized by other estate agents.

  She settled on a definite date before she talked to him. She checked the calendar, noted down the Sunday nearest her birthday, and put on her coat to make sure she was looking her best as she went along to his office.

  ‘I’m afraid Mr Wilson said he didn’t wish to be disturbed this afternoon,’ the receptionist told her. ‘Would you like to make an appointment?’ she asked, pulling a ledger towards her and scanning through it to see when he would be free.

  ‘No, I’ll see him now,’ Betty said firmly. ‘It’s very important but it won’t take long.’

  The girl was about to protest when an older woman walked into the office. She greeted Betty warmly. ‘Hello Susan,’ Betty said with a friendly smile. ‘I wanted to see Tim but this young lady has said he’s too busy,’ Betty sighed.

  ‘I’m sure he is never too busy to give you a few minutes of his time, come along, I’ll take you through to his office.’

  ‘Is there something wrong, Mother?’ he said anxiously when she was shown into his office.

  ‘No, no,’ she said quickly, ‘I just need a spot of advice from you.’

  ‘Oh, in that case sit down and I’ll arrange for a cup of tea to be brought in for us both.’

  ‘Pleas
e don’t bother, Tim. I don’t want to take up your working day and this won’t take a minute.’

  ‘I was about to have my own cuppa so it only means that they have to bang in another cup. Sit down, you look all hot and bothered.’

  Betty sank gratefully into the chair he indicated and looked around at the smart office, the display of properties which had SOLD marked on them and all the other paraphernalia that were part of his working day.

  When the tea came she asked, ‘Are you free the Sunday after next?’

  Tim pulled his desk diary towards him and opened it. ‘Is something happening then?’ he said, his lips pursed as he sipped the tea. Then he looked up, shaking his head. ‘No, sorry, I am doing something that day.’

  Betty bit her lip. ‘It’s so difficult to get you altogether,’ she said, and there was a tinge of both sadness and irritation in her voice.

  ‘Really!’ He sounded surprised. ‘Who else have you tried?’

  ‘No one, not yet. I thought I would have a word with you first.’

  ‘Is it important?’

  Betty frowned and looked thoughtful. ‘It could be the following Sunday, I suppose,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘Does it have to be a Sunday?’ Tim asked.

  ‘Well, yes, because I wanted little Anna to be there and on other days she’s at school.’

  ‘So why do you want us all to meet?’ he said.

  He sounded as though he was laughing as he closed his diary abruptly and looked at her. Betty felt annoyed when she saw the huge smile on his face.

  He was laughing at her. She wondered if he was even telling her the truth when he said he couldn’t manage that date. He had guessed what she was trying to do and he was teasing her.

  She took a long sip of her tea so as not to let him see how annoyed she was with him.

  ‘OK,’ he said when she put her cup down. ‘Is this anything to do with your birthday?’

  ‘You know it is.’

  ‘A rather special one, if my arithmetic serves me right,’ he said in a deadpan voice.

  ‘I was trying to arrange a family party but I wasn’t sure where to start, or which was the best place to take you all, so in the end I decided to come to ask your advice,’ she admitted.